Just as good writers write about what they know, so shall I shoot what I know. And I know cats. I have two of them myself, and have almost always had a pet cat of some sort my entire life. What is it that attracts us to these ferocious, narcissistic beasts? And what does loving these creatures say about us?
Lately I've found myself feeling drawn to the artistic side of photography. The way light floods through a window in the evening, casting brightness and shadows among everyday objects, or the composition of textures and lines you wouldn't normal see together, but they somehow live together in harmony. These things have been drawing me to them, begging to be photographed. I've held back because I realize that not everything is "art" and I had no intention to water down the already overused term. However, holding back hasn't afforded me much happiness either. If we create only on the basis that what we create will be appreciated by another, or purchased at a price, then we're not creating freely. This is where creativity dies, and I can't breathe in a place where creativity is dead. So I've decided to open myself up to the weird, the strange and the unknown that lies ahead. I want to take pictures of people, places, animals, light, shadows; compositions that mean something to me. And maybe, just maybe, if I find something beautiful or interesting, there will be someone else who might as well.
Either way, this is where I want to live now.